Hollywood Figured Out How to Adapt Video Games. I Wish It Hadn’t.

How do you turn a video game about zombies into a television show? If you’re making “The Last of Us,” HBO’s Emmy-winning post-apocalypse drama, you take a sober approach, treating the zombie-killing action as an opportunity to articulate profound things about the human condition. You remind viewers that what matters is not the spectacle of the end of the world, but the resilience of the survivors as they cling to their tattered humanity. And so, like the PlayStation game on which it is based, “The Last of Us” becomes a grim show with big themes: the power of hope, the futility of vengeance, the terrible things we’ll do to survive.

But if you were making “House of the Dead,” based on the 1990s arcade game, you went in guns blazing. This 2003 film, from the notoriously disreputable German director Uwe Boll, contained practically no coherent ideas, and its primary motivation seemed to be to cram as many bare breasts, exploding corpses and nu-metal songs into one movie as the Motion Picture Association of America would allow. The game it was based on was not exactly a paragon of artistic merit to begin with. But even by the crude standards of the source material, Boll’s film, with its constant slo-mo and goofy “Matrix”-style camera movements, felt especially tasteless.

Everything I know about movies and television tells me that “The Last of Us” is the superior adaptation — subtle instead of broad, mature instead of childish, concerned with real feelings instead of lizard-brain titillation. And yet every time I watch it, some recess of my soul yearns for the lurid, tooled-up lunacy of stuff like “House of the Dead.” “The Last of Us” is a duly touching story of trauma and grief, but it feels as if everything lately is a duly touching story of trauma and grief. When was the last time you put on a movie and saw slow-motion shots of a woman in a Star-Spangled Banner leotard dodging a sledgehammer-wielding zombie?

It’s not the trashiness itself that I’m nostalgic for. What made “House of the Dead” charming was its idiosyncrasies, and idiosyncrasy is precisely what the current generation of video-game adaptations has managed to iron out. Hollywood has learned how to produce successful, respectable game adaptations by slotting them into proven formulas, like comic-book blockbusters and prestige TV. You know what to expect: either a serious-minded, no-nonsense drama, as with “The Last of Us” or “The Witcher,” or an irreverent, wisecracking comedy full of inside jokes and fan service, as with “The Super Mario Bros. Movie,” “Sonic the Hedgehog” or “A Minecraft Movie.” Adaptation is a solved problem.

The earlier Mario was played by Bob Hoskins; the new one is voiced by Chris Pratt.

But before Hollywood solved it, the industry simply let artists — and, yes, sometimes hacks — attack the problem with creative abandon. The results were as delightfully singular as they were critically reviled. You could walk into Andrzej Bartowiak’s “Doom” movie with no idea that you were about to encounter a five-minute point-of-view action sequence shot in one unbroken take. You could also read a one-star review of it by Roger Ebert, who hated it so much that he ended up provoking a debate over whether video games could ever be art. These movies had a lowly reputation, but I look back on them with gratitude and affection. For all their faults, they were alive with creative possibility — with the freedom to be bad on fresh terms.